


Winter's Sport

by GatewayGirl



Series: The Finder Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Bondage, D/s, M/M, Prostitution, Roleplay, Smoking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron continue to fight about Bill; Snape sneaks Harry off to London for some decadent fun with a side of danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Living with the Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Warnings: D/s, bondage, student/teacher, smoking, prostitution (OMC), roleplay, and inappropriate use of stationery supplies
> 
> Canon-Compliancy: OotP

"I don't want anything to do with him, and I don't want anything to do with you!"

Harry scowled back at his allegedly best friend and found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had done something bad enough to deserve this.

"He was insufficiently paranoid, Ron! He wasn't malicious; he wasn't even all that stupid, to be honest. He took what he thought were --"

"He killed Dean! He might as well have killed Dean! And you're writing him a fucking letter?" Ron seized the parchment from under Harry's hands, crumpled it, and stomped on it, turning into a muddy mess smeared with blotched ink.

Deciding what to write to Bill had not been easy. Harry felt anger rising in him in a cold wave. "I stopped him. I can write him if I want to."

"Oh yes -- you and Snape, _nobly _lying to everyone --"

"Wouldn't have worked if we hadn't, now, would it? He didn't know he was giving away secret information! What if someone had been monitoring you? You wouldn't have known, either!"

"I wouldn't be that STUPID!"

The anger took over and brought Harry to his feet. "You are," he said viciously. "You're that stupid _all the time._" The moment he turned, he needed to run. Other than a pause to duck through the portrait hole, he didn't stop until he was two floors down from the entrance to the tower.

He had to stop himself there. If he had taken the time to grab his cloak, he would have continued on to the dungeons. Visible, though, he could not, no matter how much he wanted a smoke and a mind-numbing fuck. He rather hoped Ron would come looking for him. A fistfight sounded like a good alternative.

Ron didn't. It was Hermione, instead, who came walking down the stairs, her steps slowing as she approached him. She sat on the stair beside him and set a hand on his knee.

"Can I guess?" she asked wryly.

"Probably."

"He'll get over it."

"Maybe not before I start to hate him."

Still, his hand came up, and the fingers interlaced with hers, and he stayed silent when she said, "You don't mean that."

She sighed. "Ron doesn't manage certain things well. You know that. I know that. We've been through these things before."

"Not when people have died." The words came out quickly, almost before he knew they were there. He felt ill. Hermione let go of his hand and put an arm around him.

"Don't." He pushed at her half-heartedly.

"Shh."

"Ron will get the wrong idea."

"Well then, I'll have to clear things up for him, won't I?"

Surrendering, he relaxed against her shoulder. "Damn him, anyway. Hermione, I'm not going to the Burrow for Christmas. I can't take it."

She hesitated. "I think you should."

"No. Hermione, it will be horrible."

"You might make up." She was doing her best, Harry thought, to sound encouraging. "I don't think anyone else is angry."  

"But we'll all be miserable. Christmas should be happy." Staying here, Harry thought, was what he had wanted anyway -- time unsupervised at the school.

She sighed. "I'll stay with you."

"No!" He reined in his annoyance. If she stayed, he didn't get _anything _out of this mess. "Sorry, but .... Look, I'd rather just be alone, okay? And you should be with him."

"At the moment, I don't _want_ to be with him! He's being an idiot. And you may _want _to be alone, but I don't think you should be."

"What?"

"Harry, really -- you've been sulking off on your own far too much. I thought we'd agreed that we need to talk to each other."

They had agreed that -- but that had been when Harry had been a virgin, and the personal issues he had been hiding had originated with Voldemort, not a forbidden lover. "I'm not in any new danger, Hermione. Nothing strange is happening to me magically. I just need to get away, sometimes."

"If we allow you to, you withdraw and don't ask for help when you need it. I'm not leaving you here alone, Harry."

"I'm fine."

She smiled sadly. "But you always say that."

Harry didn't have any answer for that. He accompanied her to the library, and slipped out an hour later, while she was searching the stacks. Alone, he wandered through the corridors, with no goal in mind other than avoiding Ron. When it was time to return to Gryffindor, he didn't turn back.n a pause to duck through the portrait hole, he didn't stop until he was two floors down from the entrance to the tower.

  


"_Mr._ Potter."

Professor Snape's voice was cold and vicious, and it sent an irrepressible shiver down Harry's spine. He turned.

"Is there some _reason_ you are not in Gryffindor, where you _belong?"_ Severus stalked closer. There was a time when the predatory triumph in his face would have frightened and angered Harry. Now, it sent blood rushing down through his body, rather than up. He leaned insolently back against the wall.

"Don't want to be."

"And that, of course, is _far _more important than rules intended to insure your safety." Snape paused. "Though perhaps I should worry more about the safety of others from you."

Harry looked up and down the corridor. No one was in sight. Still, at Hogwarts, you couldn't count on that. He wet his lips and stepped forward. "Why should I care?"

Black eyes glittered with what would once have been fury as his professor stepped forward and seized Harry by the front of his robes. Harry could not hold back a faint moan as Severus twisted the fabric, pulling him so close that his breath was hot on Harry's ear.

"Because you are going to spend the rest of your apparently _free _evening in detention," he hissed. Severus was shaking, as he could with rage, but Harry suspected that only the thought of spying ghosts kept him from closing the scant space between their bodies and presenting another source for the tension. "Go directly to my classroom, Potter. I will meet you there as soon as I have informed your head of house as to your whereabouts."

With that, he shoved Harry away. Harry did his best to look sullen, rather than excited. "Yes, sir." He couldn't resist licking his lips. After one warning snarl, Severus turned away in a swirl of robes and retreated down the corridor.

  


_**********_

 

When Severus entered the classroom, the first thing he saw was a golden fire in the grate. Harry was kneeling before it, still dressed in his school robes. From the pile of neatly folded clothing sitting beside him, Severus was certain that he was wearing _only_his school robes. Quickly, he stepped in and closed the door. He took a step towards Harry and stopped. Leaving the clothing out like that was a risk, but for once, he found it difficult to begin objecting.

A flash of green eyes looking up, a moment of fire and darkness, and then Harry was once again the picture of demure submission. Severus stepped forward, seized a handful of hair, and pulled, bringing Harry up off his heels.

"Was it too much of a wait for you, Potter?"

_"Yes. _Pity we can't do it in the hallway."

Severus had to struggle not to push Harry to the floor immediately. He schooled his voice to scorn. "Wouldn't you mind being seen? With me?" Smirking at the thought came more naturally. "On your knees?"

"Don't think I would." Harry looked like _not minding _was only the beginning of it. _"If _they couldn't do anything to us."

"Perhaps I could offer your services in return for silence."

Rather than protesting, Harry let out a soft, lustful cry. Severus shifted forward so that his feet were touching Harry's knees, and Harry pressed forward for more contact. Carefully, Severus put his hands on Harry's chest, feeling again, as he had their first encounter, the smoothness of a single layer of fabric. He stretched his touch down as far as he could go while standing straight, and then brought a hand up and under the collar to slide it down again, this time over bare skin.

"Am I good enough, sir?"

Severus laughed silently to himself. That was a question that could be taken many ways. "To loan out?" he said coolly. "Oh, quite. But I know so _few _people that I could trust to return you undamaged."

"_Not _Lucius Malfoy," Harry said, but he rocked his hips side to side, rubbing against Severus's legs. Severus pointed his wand down and charmed Harry's robes open, exposing a stripe of skin, and sending his erection to bobbing slightly against Severus's legs.

"His son, perhaps?" Severus sneered. "I don't think he's made it up to murder, yet. What if Draco were to surprise us in a telling situation?"

"He'd think you were forcing me, you know." In contrast to the cheeky reply, Harry clasped his hands behind his back, and began to rub his face on Severus's groin. When he found the veiled ridge of Severus's erection, he concentrated on that, mouthing it through the fabric.

"He'd soon learn better."

"Would you want him to?"

Rather than chiding Harry for lifting his mouth, Sever took advantage of the space to unfasten his robes from the waist down.

"Perhaps not. He might be more willing to have you if he thought you were unhappy."

"Dunno if I can fake that." Harry nuzzled at his hands, interfering with the business of unfastening his flies.

"But he'd sneer at you so sincerely. And everything from me would have two meanings, and be such a sweet secret."

"I'm a Gryffindor."

"You like your dark secrets, just the same. Don't think I don't know how much you hide."

He had got everything out of the way, finally, and Harry tongued his cock, rather than replying. For a moment, Severus enjoyed watching his escalating ministrations, but a few seconds after Harry took him to the root, he pulled away, cursing, and pushed him to the floor. It was only as he knelt down that he noticed the fur rug that certainly did not belong there, but felt beautiful beneath his knees as he straddled the boy's face.

"Go back to it."

  


  
_**********_   


  


Harry rolled onto his back, panting. He was vaguely aware of Snape levering himself up to watch. For a moment, he let his eyes close. Lessons would be ending for Christmas, soon, and then he could stay as long as he wished ... Except, of course, if Hermione worried. His eyes flew open to find Severus studying him.

"What?"

"That was an interesting series of expressions, Potter."

"I bet. Could we get Hermione assigned a time-consuming research project that I can't possibly help her with?"

A low rumble of amusement met the question. "Not looking forward to the scolding you'll get when you go back?"

"Oh, it's not that. She wants to stay for Christmas. Because I'm staying, and she thinks she needs to make sure that I study. And she thinks I spend too much time alone."

"How little she knows," Severus said smugly, but his smirk turned to a frown while he was sitting up. He settled with his legs to one side, and Harry watched him study the distant air as he lit a cigarette. "You are trying to dissuade her?"

"Of course!"

"Continue with that, and I will see what I can devise to distract her if you fail." His eyes glittered. "I am not interested in sharing your attention."

"Honestly, I'd like a break from it being shared."

"I will, however, also make you study."

"N.E.W.T.s are months away!"

"Your N.E.W.T.s do not concern me," Severus remarked dryly. "However, you have immediate use for some intensive work in combat magic."

Harry gave up on being offered a smoke and reached out to snag the pack. "I'd be okay with that."

"I expected that you would be." Beyond the flare of his ignition charm, Harry watched the smirk reassert itself. "And we would still have plenty of time for pleasure -- _if _you are otherwise at liberty."

  


All the way back to Gryffindor tower, Harry considered the matter. He had a half-dozen schemes -- none of which he actually believed would work -- competing for his attention by the time he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

The moment he stepped through the opening, he knew that he wouldn't have time for any of them.

At this hour, the common room would usually be empty, but for one or two desperate procrastinators writing frantically. Instead, he saw a small cluster of people by the fire, most of them standing around the couches, speaking in the hushed, uneven manner that always boded ill. His mind immediately moved to thoughts of attack. Hermione looked up and beckoned Harry over, and he started grimly across the room. Halfway there, he saw that the group was centered around Ron -- Ron, who was openly _crying, _as no boy their age ever would for less than true disaster -- and he hurried the rest of the way, all anger forgotten.

"What happened?"

Choking, Ron looked up. For just a moment, Harry thought he would lean forward and hold on, as he had when Dean was killed. The second of vulnerability turned suddenly to rage. "Go AWAY!" 

"Hermione?" Harry asked desperately. _Not one of his family; please not. _Frighteningly, Hermione looked as alarmed as he felt.

"Bill," she choked out. "He'll probably be okay. They think he'll be okay."

"What happened to Bill?" His own voice was harsh, but he couldn't help it. People didn't get this upset over less than a death.

Hermione stroked Ron's back as she looked past it at him. "He tried to kill himself." Her voice was tight. "Ashwinder egg in dragon's blood -- nasty stuff. He's in St. Mungo's while they try to recreate his throat and stomach."

"Hell!" Harry's stomach churned with emotion while he thought of what either one of those substances could do to human flesh. In a flash of defensive fury, he grabbed Ron's shoulder and pulled him around. "Why didn't you let me WRITE HIM?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped.

Even before the words were out, Harry realized that he had said the worse thing possible. He could see in Ron's face that his friend felt more than enough regret without him piling on more.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "God. Not that it would have done any good, this late." He tried to touch Ron, but Ron flinched away, and Harry closed his eyes and turned. "I'm going to bed."

No one tried to stop him, but Lavender and Seamus gave him distinctly dirty looks as he passed.

He was still awake, much later, when Ron came up to the room and began to undress.

"Ron? Look, I --"

"Don't say _anything,"_ Ron said fiercely. "Just _don't."_

  


Harry didn't sleep well, and he could tell that Ron didn't either, but Ron at least pretended to be asleep when Harry gave up, long before breakfast time. Quietly, Harry dressed, gathered some writing materials, and left the room. The common room was silent, except for the soft pop of the fire lighting itself as he entered. He sat down near it and began a letter.
    
    
    Bill,
    
    I'm sorry I didn't write earlier. ~~Ron tore up my last~~ I  
    tried to, but Ron found out and fought with me about it. He hasn't

 

He gave up on that, and started over.
    
    
    Dear Bill,
    
    First, I want you to know that I'm not upset at you about  
    the leak. Whatever Snape says, I think you made an  
    understandable mistake. Yes, it was a risk, but you took  
    what you thought were reasonable precautions, and it wasn't  
    ~~entirely~~ your fault that they weren't enough. I know  
    you could have been more careful, but I'm not sure that  
    winning would be worth it if everyone left was like Moody.
    
    I'm sorry I didn't write earlier. I tried to, but Ron found  
    out and fought with me about it. He hasn't been able to  
    decide if he's angrier at me for daring to suspect you or  
    for ~~forgiving~~ not being angry at you, though I think  
    it's mostly the first one, now. He was ~~actually crying~~  
    very upset, last night, but he wouldn't talk to me, which is  
    mostly my fault, because I was an arse. I want you to know  
    he cares about you, even if he hasn't been acting like it.
    
    Please let people help you and get better quickly.
    
    Best wishes,
    
    Harry

That would do, he thought. He'd wasted too much time trying to get it perfect over the last week. Setting that one aside to dry, he started on the second letter.
    
    
    Ron,
    
    I'm sorry I was so horrible last night. It wasn't your  
    fault that I didn't write to him. I first tried to a  
    week ago, and I might not have sent yesterday's letter  
    right away, even if I'd finished it.

He was just signing his name when he heard steps on the staircase down from the girls' dormitories. It was Hermione, still in pajamas and a dressing gown, who appeared in the doorway. She came over to him, her expression uncertain. Neither of them had yet said anything when she reached him and began reading over his shoulder. He let her.

"Getting straight to the point?"

Harry shrugged, relief flooding him at the merely wry tone. "I reckon I'm lucky if he reads past the first few words, so they better matter."

"Good point."

Harry made a face. "Did you have to agree with me?"

"Well, you're right." Nonetheless, Hermione flopped down on the couch next to him. "I couldn't sleep."

"Don't think any of us did." Harry bit his lip for a moment. "Listen, Hermione. Tomorrow...."

"I don't know what to do."

"You're going to the Burrow." Harry took a breath. "And I'm not, of course."

"Harry, I'm sure that --"

"It doesn't matter if they blame me or not! I can't help now. Seeing me ... even the ones that _don't_ blame me will feel worse. Go help ... please?"

"But you...." She waved her hands helplessly, in a most unHermionelike way. Harry knew how she felt. He didn't know what to do either.

"I'll be okay. I'm really ... I'm almost okay, these days."

"You were out past midnight."

"Snape caught me out and decided he couldn't wait to give me detention."

"Oh, Harry!"

"It wasn't so bad. He's offered to give me lessons in combat spells over the holiday. Well, offered in the 'I refuse to have a defender so pathetic,' sort of way, but still. I was feeling better until I got back here." He shifted uneasily, his thoughts returning to Bill. "Do they really think he'll be all right? I can't imagine surviving for long enough to even Apparate....

Hermione nodded grimly. "Fortunately, Charlie caught him, and he knows charms for dragon's blood burns, and it turns out they counter the ashwinder egg to some extent. Still ... I don't think he'd have a _chance_ in a Muggle hospital, and it sounded as if Charlie had been a second later...."

She stopped, tears forming in her already red eyes. Harry reached out to her, and at the first contact, she collapsed against him.

"Oh Harry, I don't know what to do! I'm no good at being comforting, and people keep dying and getting hurt, and it's not any easier, and...."

"Shh. Go to the Burrow. Even if you just help with making sure everyone's fed, that's something, right?"

"But Bill!"

"If you can go to St. Mungo's, then read to him or something. Don't let him sulk. Roll your eyes if he gets dramatic, like you would with me."

She nodded against his chest, where a slight dampness was spreading through his shirt. "Sorry. I ... I couldn't break down with Ron. He needed --"

"I know."

  


When they got back from breakfast, Ron had already left for St. Mungo's. The note he left for Hermione said that Bill might be well enough for visitors, soon. There was nothing for Harry. He wasn't as pleased as might have been to scribble _Sorted_ on the bottom of his Potions essay before turning it in.

After the last lesson of the day was over, crowds of excited children gathered in the corridors, chattering about their holiday plans. Harry felt dreary in comparison.

"Young, aren't they?" said a soft voice at his side, and he turned to smile at Hermione.

"Most of them. Yeah."

"I ... I think you're right. About the Weasleys. I'm going to go tomorrow, if I can. I'm just not sure how --"

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall hurried up to them. "The headmaster wishes to speak to you."

A momentary glance shared the question, and then Harry nodded. "Fine."

They walked in silence to the gargoyle guardian. Harry couldn't help worrying that Bill had taken a turn for the worse, and he suspected that Hermione had similar thoughts. The spiral ride up the staircase was irritatingly indirect.

"Ah, there you are. Sherbet lemon?"

"Is Bill all right?" Harry demanded.

"Well, I'm not certain 'all right' is a fitting description -- _yet _\-- but he is improving steadily." Dumbledore made no second attempt to offer candy. Instead, he motioned to the chairs by the fire and came around his desk to join them. "Please, sit."

The headmaster settled wearily into one of the padded chairs. Reflected flames glittered in his glasses. "Bill Weasley is, as I said, improving. However, his condition is still serious. In discussing the matter, it became evident that Mrs. Weasley and I had differing understandings of how the two of you were planning to spend the holiday. She thought you were both visiting?"

"She is, sir," Harry volunteered, motioning at Hermione. "I'm not."

"If the invitation still stands," Hermione added hastily.

"I believe it does, Miss Granger. Harry? Did you think you were not welcome?"

"Ron and I have been fighting, sir. Even before this. It's not that I think Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have me; it's that I think it would be too unpleasant for everyone."

Dumbledore considered him thoughtfully. "It requires some effort, Harry, to keep the people we love in our lives."

"I'm not giving up on them!" Harry hesitated. "I've written to Bill, which I meant to do earlier, but I'd been having trouble deciding what to say. I should write Mrs. Weasley too -- I'd thought Ron would tell her I wasn't coming. And I've sent presents, of course. I think having Hermione there might actually _help, _but it's too early for me."

This seemed to reassure the old wizard. He nodded solemnly. "Very well." With a sigh, he shifted in his seat. "No one from the family has time to go to Kings Cross, tomorrow --" A slight motion of his hand forestalled Hermione's acceptance. "-- but I will be traveling to St. Mungo's myself, tomorrow morning, and you may come with me and meet them there."

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione moved nervously. "May I see Bill? Can he have visitors? Is he conscious?"

"He could be conscious -- however, they are mostly keeping him asleep, to keep his throat as still as possible while it re-forms." Dumbledore got to his feet. "And now, I must pack, as business will keep me in the city for several days. I suggest you go do the same. And Harry? I will see you before Christmas; _do _try to stay out of any life-threatening peril until then."

Harry smiled shakily at him as he stood. "Postpone manticore hunt until Christmas Day -- got it."


	2. Plans

Harry didn't actually bother going down to the train the next day. Hermione and Ron had already left, and his other housemates had other people to think about. He waved Neville and Seamus out of the room, and Neville, at least, waved back. He did watch, from one of the tower windows, for the puffs of steam departing southward. Once that had happened, he adjusted his clothes -- the tattiest cast-offs he had -- and headed out into the corridors, bringing the Marauders' Map with him. The label marked "Severus Snape" was moving quickly through the less traveled parts of the school, as Harry had expected. Currently, it was two turns away from the Trophy Room. Harry judged that if he went down the back stairway, he could be at the corner by the washrooms by the time Severus got there.

In fact, he was a little early. He loitered for a moment, observing how disused this section of the school was. There were no portraits, but the pillars every few strides were carved with grotesque faces. He wondered if they could also bear tales to the headmaster.

While Harry was staring into the stone eyes of a sneering tusked man, Professor Snape swept around the corner. Without missing a step, he said, "Are you coming or going, Potter? Make up your mind," and entered the bathroom. With a scowl that was entirely for show, Harry followed.

The bathroom was even more decrepit than the corridor. Rust stains spread wide in the sinks, and cobwebs stretched from one tap to the next. Severus pointed his wand at the door and muttered a spell.

"Locking it?"

"Nothing so obvious. I've set the latch to break. It will take a minute for anyone to get in." He looked hungrily at Harry as he spoke. "The headmaster is away, and I have set the Bloody Baron on Peeves."

"Clog the drains, while you're at it. I don't want Moaning Myrtle in here."

Severus smirked. "Already done." With a quick lunge, he seized Harry and spun him around, shoving him against a dripping sink. Harry took all the energy that instinctively wanted to go into fighting and threw it into surrendering, making his blood surge.

"Yes," he hissed, before catching himself. "Please, sir...."

"Foolish little boy," Severus whispered darkly, pressing hard against him and rubbing blatantly. "Don't you know better than to wander by yourself in unused regions of the school?"

Harry gripped the sides of the sink and pushed back hard. "But nothing ever happens in the usual places. I'd miss out on all the excitement."

"Is this _exciting, _then, Potter?" As a dark wand flicked into the edge of Harry's vision, thick vines curled around Harry's wrists. In a flash, they had bound him to the pipes that went up the wall behind the sink. With a hard pull, Severus undid Harry's belt, and the oversize trousers began to slip. "Being caught in an abandoned room?"

"Yeah," Harry squirmed against him, using the friction to inch his trousers down more. Severus leaned close, his breath harsh in Harry's ear.

"You know what I want, don't you, boy?"

"Pretty obvious."

"Answer properly, Potter!"

"Yes, _Professor, _I know what you want." With a last lift of one hip, he had it. The trousers fell around his ankles, leaving him bare from there to the hem of his moth-eaten jumper, but the garment was so large that he had room to spread his legs. The ceramic of the sink was cold against the tip of his cock. In contrast, the fine fabric of Snape's robes slid smoothly against his bare buttocks.

"Say it, then, Potter," Severus demanded. "What do you believe I will do to you?"

"Bugger me blind." With a cocky grin at the mirrorless wall, Harry added, "_sir."_

Uneven teeth slid against his ear. "Five points to Gryffindor," Severus whispered. Still fully dressed, he slid a lubed finger against Harry's crack, and Harry rocked back, trying to take the tip in. Snape withdrew the contact in fractions of an inch, teasing him with the touch and making him stretch to the limits of the vines. "How entertainingly _shameless _you are, Potter. Imagine if someone walked in right now, and saw you straining for more."

"Wouldn't care," Harry said defiantly. His imagination, however, remembered the fantasy about Draco, and was rapidly filling in the Slytherin boy staring from the door.

"No? You wouldn't stop, then?" Severus moved just the tip of his finger in.

"Fuck me, damn it! I don't care who's watching."

At that, his lover finally gave. He pushed the finger inside, and began deftly fucking Harry with that, while he fumbled at his robes with his off hand. For a minute, even that small intrusion was enough to give Harry the feeling of fullness that he craved, but only for a minute. He twisted to look past his shoulder, and snarled the incantation to undo buttons. Severus stumbled back, pulling out of him with almost painful speed.

"What the hell do you want me to _do?" _Harry snarled. "Just _tell _me."

Severus's voice, by contrast, was steady -- almost light. "You managed four buttons."

"Under rather adverse conditions."

"You misunderstand. That is _quite _impressive, wandless."

Harry snarled again, a wordless sound of frustration and rage, and then his eyes narrowed. "There you go," he said coldly. "My _fans _were right. I'm _special _and _impressive, _and you should appreciate me."

His professor's face took on a dangerous light as he stepped close again. One hand moved to Harry's hip and caressed it. "Oh, I _do _appreciate you, Potter," he said softly, the caress changing to a hard grip. "I appreciate that you're a fucked-up little boy who can't get enough of my cock." With his wand to focus the Unfastening charm, he had his clothes undone and trousers off in seconds. He teased the promised member up against Harry's hole and made him strain back again. The vines pulled hard at Harry's wrists. "Nothing to say, Potter?"

"You want me to agree with you?"

"In detail."

Harry whined. "Yeah," he said. "Can't get enough. Want it in my mouth, in my arse -- want you touching me, want you staring at me when I take off my clothes...."

Severus pressed, ever so slightly, into him. "Expand 'it.' You must know several words."

"Want your cock in my arse," Harry said. "Please. Feels so good."

He pushed in further. "That's a good boy."

"Like that, don't you? Like that I'm officially under your authority --"

"And even more that are physically so -- and that you ask for that."

"Yeah. Love the way you tie me up and make me take it. Want you to buy me a collar and make me sit at your feet while you're grading --"

With a harsh cry, Severus plunged into him. The burn was nothing under the satisfaction at having successfully goaded him, and Harry started moving immediately, bracing himself against the sink. Severus matched him, his ready tongue spilling out curses stripped of malice, and praises of Harry as a wanton, ungovernable brat. Soft laughter turned to desperate gulps of breath, and then to cries of pleasure, and Harry collapsed forward, bumping his head on the corroded pipes. Severus seized him around the chest and thrust harder until he spasmed, froze, and finally, relaxed. Harry collapsed forward into the wall as the vines uncoiled and faded away. The smell of their sex mingled oddly with the disturbed damp.

"Brilliant."

"Do you need to return soon?"

"No." Harry sent a mischievous smile back over his shoulder. "No one else from Gryffindor stayed." He was rewarded by seeing Severus shudder slightly, as in a shadow of orgasm.

"Would no one notice, then, if I took you to London? Overnight, perhaps?" Severus leaned close, his nails biting into Harry's shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore expects to spend much of the next two weeks away."

Traveling sounded even more like freedom than unsupervised nights in the school. Harry moaned and pressed as hard as he could back into Severus, although it was too soon for either of them to have recovered. "What's in London?"

"Restaurants," Severus purred. "Hotels. All that money we never get a chance to spend. Perhaps a little blond rentboy to play the part of Draco."

"Oh." Harry let out several quick breaths, somewhere between panting and laughing as he tried to absorb the idea. "Mm. I'm all for that."

"Muggle, of course."

"Would damn well have to be."

"Quite." Severus hesitated. "If you are willing," he said, with unusual care, "and conditions allow, you might also do a little job. For the business, that is."

"In London?" For that, Harry turned around. He needed to pull up his trousers first. When he settled back, covered arse against the now-warm sink, Severus looked amused.

"Yes, London. I overheard Macnair, last night, saying that the gargoyles in the City had laid. He's supposed to destroy the egg, sometime next week, once the adults start to range further away. I'd like you to steal it, first."

Harry shifted uneasily. They had never covered gargoyles in class. He thought he had read that they protected buildings, that carved gargoyles attracted them, and that they were harmless unless provoked. What they did when provoked, he had no idea. "How dangerous is that?" he mused, only belatedly realizing that he had voiced the question.

Severus shrugged. "That rather depends. If --"

Harry interrupted. "Have any fags?"

"Now?"

"If we're going to talk, I want a smoke."

Severus stretched his lips in a mocking smile. "Not something I carry about the school. Too tempting."

"That's why you're so stroppy when you're out walking the corridors. No cigs, no sex...." Severus responded with an amused snort, and Harry shook back sweaty hair from his face. "All right. Gargoyles. Danger."

"As I had _attempted _to say, if it is night, and I cast an Obscuration charm on you and your broom, _and _the adult gargoyles do not return until you have left the nest, not at all."

"And if they do?"

"Obscuration charms do not work on gargoyles. You would need to out-fly it. They have been known to kill."

With assumed nonchalance, Harry shrugged. "All right. Can't be much worse than dragons. Anything else I should know?"

"Once you have the egg, and I have placed it in a proper containment, we would need to Apparate or portkey away immediately. The Ministry may have alarm charms set."

Harry chuckled at that. "Oh, so we're poaching from the government, are we? Wait." He thought back to what Severus had said. "Macnair is supposed to _destroy _this egg?"

"That is standard practice. The Ministry attempts to keep them out of circulation."

"Won't people notice when you show up with one for sale?"

That hesitation again. "I was not planning on selling it."

"Then this really isn't _business, _is it?"

Severus began to pace. The hem of his robe, where it swirled about him, was grey with cobwebs. "Not precisely. However, if there is gravel from the gargoyles in the nest, which is likely, you could collect that, as well, and that will bring a decent price."

"What do you want with the egg?"

"The egg -- specifically, the shell, is the primary ingredient in the Shadowcloak philtre. This gives the drinker the ability -- but does not compel him -- to hide completely in shadows, however faint." He stopped and turned his head to look squarely at Harry. "In the absence of profits, I would split the doses with you."

"I already have an invisibility cloak."

Severus dismissed that with a contemptuous flick of one wrist. "A cloak must be put on and taken off. It can be stolen from you. It can catch on things. With this potion, you can be walking normally with a companion, hang back a step, and be gone. If captured, you still have it until dawn -- you can make your prison appear empty, and slip out when a guard opens the door to find you."

Harry could see those advantages and others. It was a tempting offer. "It must be rare."

"Very rare. A breeding pair of gargoyles may lay once every fifty years, and the governments watch them jealously, choosing which eggs to guard and which to destroy. It is a dangerous thing to fall into enemy hands."

"Thus the not selling."

"Yes. If Macnair were to falsify the destruction, and bring the egg to his master...."

"How many doses can we get?"

Lips pursed in thought, Severus eyed him up and down. "They vary by weight. Perhaps six for you and six for me."

"And the gravel?"

"Is used for certain potions that make stone easier to levitate and maneuver. It is not terribly rare, but it is in high demand. An even split of profits, again?"

Harry leaned back. "Add in a carton of cigarettes, and you have a deal."

Harry didn't think the gravel could be worth much. There was more avarice in the potion master's eyes at his suggestion than there had been at the discussion of profits. "But I enjoy you coming to me for your drugs."

"Too bad." Harry pushed off from the sink and stood upright. "I'll come to you anyway, you know."

"For other vices."

"Yes."

Severus shrugged. "I suggest a compromise. A carton of cigarettes, yes, but I hold it."

"I can take it from you by the pack, though? Because the point is to, you know, _have _them when you don't, or when I can't go find you."

"Agreed."


	3. London

Harry thought the boy was his own age, but he couldn't keep from thinking 'boy.' He was even skinnier than Harry tended to be after summer at the Dursleys' and seemed at once tough and delicate -- _brittle,_ Harry thought. Right now, he couldn't seem to decide what to do about Harry being between him and the man who had hired him.

"Hi. I'm Harry." Harry gave the boy a little push down into the seat of the hired car. "Don't worry about the Professor, just now. We have more elaborate plans."

He thought he saw Severus's cheek twitch in a repressed smile, but the boy looked, if anything, more uncertain. "Davey. You ... do some sort of specialty?"

He seemed to be studying Harry's clothes, and Harry, in a rush of amusement, suddenly understood. "Oh no! I'm not hired. He -- he's my chemistry teacher, at school. I'm staying over the holiday, and we decided to go somewhere where we could be, er, less discreet."

Severus was definitely smiling, now, if ever so slightly -- _smirking, _perhaps.

The boy frowned, working this through. Harry thought he must be a little bit stoned. "You go to a public school, then?" He focused on Harry. "You don't talk like it."

Harry was taken aback at this. Dudley didn't talk like it either, really. On the other hand, Davey might not know any public school kids. "I'm not really rich." Severus snorted, and Harry realized that this was patently false. "Or, I am, but I wasn't raised that way. My parents died when I was a baby, and I've gone to school on a trust fund --" _close enough_ "--where they met, you know -- and just came into the inheritance."

Davey shot a canny look at Severus, and Harry didn't need Legilimency to see that he was thinking that the professor was bilking Harry of his money. He felt momentarily protective, but reminded himself that Severus might not mind that perception, Slytherin values being what they were. Still, he didn't like being seen as that naive. He laid a hand on Davey's thigh and ran it over the impractical half-sheer trousers. "This is a very _interesting _garment."

"Prout!" Snape barked, and it took a few seconds for Harry to remember that was his assumed last name. "Did I give you leave to _touch?" _

Harry tried to look sullen, but he was inwardly delighted. _Playing already, are we?_ "No, but -- isn't he my Christmas present, sir?"

The smirk turned full on him, now. "I did not say he was _yours, _Prout. Apologize -- now."

"I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to be presumptuous." With the turn of his head hiding his expression from the prostitute, Harry dared a brief leer and lick of his lips at the end of the contrite-sounding words.

"Not to me, you dolt! To him!" Severus's lips tightened into a thin smile. _"Nicely._ Very nicely."

Hot with understanding, Harry slid down off the seat. "I'm sorry, Davey. Would you like me to make it up to you? I can give a really good blow job."

Davey shot Severus a look, and at his avid stare, nodded. He seemed almost to relax. This, Harry reflected, must be more familiar. _He's probably thinking that's what it's all about -- the older guy wants to watch two young things going at it. _Smiling to himself at his knowledge of more complicated things to come, he bent forward to undo the snap on the sheer trousers with his teeth. Underneath, it was held closed with velcro, which pulled open with a noise that was vulgarly loud, even over the car engine. The boy wasn't hard, but Harry had scarcely expected it, between the cold and the circumstances. He put his mouth a hair's breadth above the limp cock and breathed heat out onto it. Davey reached for his hair and began to swell slightly. Harry used his lips, just from the side, to encourage more, and Davey made a surprised sound.

"Don't you want --? I mean, I have condoms. Flavored. Not bad, really."

With what he knew about wizards and Muggle diseases, Harry hadn't worried about it, but Davey sounded a little disturbed. Harry wondered if he was worried about getting infected, or knew he already was, and was actually bothering to worry about Harry.

Severus saved him by reaching across to turn Davey's chin so that he could look into his eyes. Harry saw a small motion under his coat as he used his wand. "It is not necessary," Severus said softly, and Harry knew he was reinforcing that. "Not this time."

  


Before Harry could complete his task, they pulled up in front of the hotel. Harry gave Davey the long coat that they had brought and took him up to the room, leaving Severus to pay -- and presumably Obliviate -- the driver. Davey clutched the coat around himself and kept his head down as they crossed the lobby, leaving Harry to keep up a normal sounding chatter for both of them. He was silent in the elevator. It wasn't until they had got entered the top floor suite and Harry had closed the door behind them, that he spoke.

"This is swank."

He sounded frightened. Harry took his arm and led him to the couch. "Yeah," he agreed lightly, "swank. But it's work, right? Better than your usual places, I bet. And warmer." He grinned. "You can show off that outrageous outfit of yours and still be comfortable." When Davey compliantly began to pull off the coat, Harry caught at his arm. "Leave it on until you warm up. I'm going to explain the scenario to you while the professor sorts the driver."

"I'm warm enough," Davey insisted, squirming out of the coat. He looked tawdry in the sparkling halogen light of the suite. The revealing clothing was shoddily made, and his make-up intended for near darkness. A purple bruise marred the lines of his right arm, which had no perceptible muscle.

"Don't believe you," Harry said cheerfully, trying to push down a surge of protective feeling. He settled for pulling Davey against his side and dragging the heavy coat over them. "Relax, Davey. We have plenty of time."

Using the remote control on the end table, he dimmed the lights until the boy's heavy eyeliner was edging back into sexy.

"So," he said, "There's this boy at school who hates me. He's very arrogant, and very rich, and he looks a bit like you -- or like you'll look once we clean you up." Quite suddenly, the slow rise and fall of the boy's chest under his hand became nearly imperceptible. Harry stopped, confused.

"If you're going to hurt me, that's extra," the boy said quickly, his voice flat. "You can afford it."

"Oh!" Harry squeezed Davey's stiff torso slightly. "God, no. Not that at _all. _No, you're going to catch us -- your favorite professor and your least-favorite fellow pupil -- together, and threaten blackmail, and he'll give me to you as a bribe. You can be as nasty as you want, as long as you don't physically hurt me -- no spanking or whipping or anything, okay?"

The boy's body relaxed slightly. "I know how not to leave bruises," he offered.

"That doesn't matter. I don't _enjoy _it."

"Oh." Davey twisted around slightly. It was the most initiative he'd shown since they picked him up, and Harry's reservations about his ability to behave like Draco grew. "You'll like the rest of it?"

"Quite a lot, if you can do it decently. I know you're not an actor, so just try your best, all right?"

"Yeah, well, you're the boss, right? Or the professor is."

"Both of us, really. We're a team. Look to him for your lead, though." It was getting warm under the coat. Harry pushed it off of them and stood. "Come on. Let's go to the bathroom and get all that crap off your face." He cocked his head. "Or perhaps just most. And the professor wanted this in a sort of fantasy motif, so there'll be costumes." He grinned at Davey's blink. "I told you we had elaborate plans!"

_And, _he thought, as he led the boy into the palatial dressing room outside the loo, _we need to clear whatever the hell you're on out of your system, and definitely give you that aphrodisiac that Severus brought along. Yeah, it's more sex, but you're going to enjoy this. _

  


_**********_

  


When Severus entered the room, both boys were missing, the heavy coat was crumpled up on the sofa, and the bathroom door was closed. He hung it up beside his own and fixed himself a drink at the bar. When they finally emerged, the prostitute looking stripped and pale, he tapped the ash off his cigarette and put down the inane Muggle periodical that he had been attempting to read.

"Boy -- that room." He pointed to across the lounge area to another room. "Close the door, put on the clothes you find on the bed, and then come back out. Prout, I want to speak to you."

Harry hurried over as if he always came when called, but as soon as their rental had left the room, threw himself into the closest chair and snagged a cigarette.

"Your impressions?"

"Have any way to clear out his system? He's bloody wasted. I also don't think he has any real interest in sex, so you should give him that concoction of yours."

"That all seemed likely."

Harry shrugged and sucked on the cigarette so that the smoldering line of orange moved visibly down the paper. From the slightly unhappy tension in his face, Severus gathered that he hadn't considered what a hired boy might be like. He was certain of it, when Harry suddenly blurted out:

"I wish I could help him, somehow."

Severus looked away, at the darkness outside the sparkling window.

"You can't. We can make tonight pleasant. I can cure some of what is wrong with his body, and we can give him money. In the long run, however, it will make no difference."

"I _could _though."

"Perhaps." Severus let his tone show how much he doubted it. "But it would require a lot of time and effort, for one person and little chance of a return, and you have more significant battles, more relevant to your life."

That was clearly a bitter message to take, but Harry managed it, setting his shoulders back. With a stab of regret, Severus revised his opinion of his maturity up a notch.

"All right. But he leaves here fed, and rested, and in as good health as you can manage, and he has a brilliant time, tonight."

"Agreed." _Not so much for his sake, _Severus thought,_ as to not mar your pleasure with guilt._

Harry, indeed, seemed quite cheered. When their rentboy emerged, looking perplexed and uncomfortable in his Slytherin uniform, Harry laughed and stubbed out his cigarette.

"Come here, Davey," he called.

Severus saw the boy look to him, and nodded slightly. He rose to his feet as the prostitute drew near. "Sit down," he ordered. When the boy was seated, and Harry had firmly pushed him from the edge of the sofa to the back of it, Severus walked around behind him.

"No. Don't look at me. Look at Prout."

He slipped his wand from his sleeve and cast a cleansing charm on the boy's blood. He was not surprised to see him suddenly bend over, in pain, but Harry was. He wrapped his arms around the shaking boy and looked angrily at Severus. Severus smirked.

"Not accustomed to chemical normality, are you, little fool?" A second charm calmed suddenly over-stimulated nerves, and with a single loud sob, the boy relaxed. Harry was stroking his hair and murmuring to him. Severus tucked his wand away and walked back to the bar. When he returned with the potion, dumped into a shot glass to present a more normal appearance, the prostitute was sitting up, still pale, but alert. Admittedly, there was nothing customarily served in a shot glass that was red and fizzy, but it was still bound to look less odd than a glass vial, to a Muggle. "Drink this. It will help."

"But --" The boy bit back his protest, and nodding, took the glass and knocked it back. Within seconds, his cheeks were turning pink. From the way he shifted, Severus surmised that he was finding Harry's continued petting more than a little arousing. The shaky breath he let out caught Harry's attention.

"You should give that to me, sometime," he said approvingly.

"Are you mad?" Severus snorted at the very thought. "You'd kill me. You run quite hot enough, without."

"I suppose." Unselfconsciously, Harry stood. "Well -- time to get started?"

"Indeed." Severus caught Davey rocking his hips and smiled. "Has Prout explained matters to you, boy?"

"I guess. I'm supposed to catch you, and threaten to report you?"

"With craft and malice -- yes. Your name is Reynard -- Reynard Draper. Take from that what you will." From the boy's confused look, Severus doubted he had understood the reference. He pointed at a closed door. "We have a bit of a set in there." In fact, it was as complete a mock-up of his classroom as two hours of transfiguration could create. "Give us five minutes to get changed and started, and then you may come in. Your father, incidentally -- and you call him 'Father,' quite formally and loudly -- is terribly influential with the board of governors, as you never hesitate to remind me."

  


It was odd to watch Harry getting dressed _before _sex. Severus made a mental note to require the experience again, sometime. Harry stripped off his jumper and t-shirt, replaced them with a white oxford shirt and Gryffindor tie, and then put his school robes on top. Severus merely removed the glamor from his own clothing. Harry was looking pensive, which did not bode well; Severus waited only until the last eye was hooked before starting in on him.

"Late again, Prout?" he spat, closing the distance between them in two strides. "I suppose you believe your amusements are more important than my time?"

"I -- I'm sorry sir." Harry's voice sounded a bit strangled, as if he were trying not to laugh. "Neville just takes _forever _to come...."

At that, Severus choked on unexpected laughter and Harry dissolved into fits of sniggering.

"Er, sorry. Shall we try that again?" he managed finally.

"Brat! Yes, definitely. Or skip it and do something better with your mouth." Deftly and quickly, he opened the lower fastenings on his robes, while Harry slipped to the floor. By the time the door opened, he was braced back against the long student bench, struggling to stay with Harry's rhythm rather than just bucking up into his throat. Davey stood in the entrance, staring. Severus thought that his shock might actually be for the appearance of the room, but the effect was acceptable.

"Professor!" he managed finally.

"Hell!" Severus pretended to have just noticed him. "Inside, Draper -- and shut that door!"

The boy did. Visually, he didn't make a bad Draco, Severus thought -- the same pallor and pointed features -- but he didn't know how to stand as if he owned the world. Draco would have blustered or threatened, or sauntered in with deliberate slowness, but Davey just stepped inside. _"And, _professor?"

"And what? I'm just showing Prout his place in the world." Snape's hand twisted in Harry's hair, pulling slightly to start him moving again.

"I've always thought that might be it." The boy was actually trying for an upper-class accent, now, though it varied from word to word. "He certainly doesn't belong in your lessons." With that, he swaggered forward, quite clearly entranced by what Harry was doing. Severus reminded himself that he had given the boy a potent aphrodisiac. Indeed, he was impressed when the boy managed to tear his attention away enough to look him in the eye.

"You could get fired for this, you know. Go to prison if the school doesn't cover it up. If I tell Father...." He lowered a hand as he spoke, stroking up the back of Harry's neck, pushing his hair backwards. Harry rose into it.

"And what would you get out of that?" Severus argued. "No one's going to let you get away with the things I do."

"Perhaps. But I think you can offer better."

"Would you like a turn with him?" Severus presented the idea with evil grace. It was easy, now, to imagine this was young Malfoy in front of him, stroking Harry and growing pink with lust. "He's surprisingly ... biddable."

"And then I won't talk."

"Precisely."

"You think I want a blow job that badly?"

From the way the boy was shaking, he clearly did. Severus smiled slightly. "From Prout, you might. But I like his mouth right where it is. I thought perhaps you might bugger him. No need to _wait, _that way."

A small, spontaneous noise came from the boy. The potion was obviously doing its job. "I don't like waiting," he managed.

"Strip his clothes off, then -- we might as well get a good view." Severus pulled a vial from his pocket, belated realizing that he hadn't put it in some more Muggle vessel, and handed it to the boy. "By the time you've put some of this up his hole, you can probably push right in. He's _always _ready."

Harry squirmed and took him briefly to the root, at that, and Severus pulled his hair in response. After a moment, it risked crossing into _too _good, and he tugged back. "Let up, Prout, if you can possibly restrain yourself. I don't want to come until you've had a good taste of taking it at both ends."

Harry lifted his head, moaning. "Fuck, sir, want it...." The boy had given up on unfastening the school robes and just shoved them over Harry's head, muffling his voice for a moment.

"I can tell you do," he said nastily. "Gagging for his prick, aren't you?" He yanked the trousers down, and knelt to slide a knee between Harry's legs, rubbing it up and down his erection. "Hard just from having him in your mouth. You'll bloody explode when I do your arse."

"Can't _help _it," Harry protested. "Need _more."_

"I don't think this trade is really enough," the boy declared. "I think I want him anytime."

"Sir?" Harry asked pleadingly.

Severus forced himself to scowl. "You just caught us once, Reynard."

"But you'd be in gaol for years," the boy argued, sliding two lubed fingers into Harry and holding them there. His other hand slid around to encircle Harry's cock, and for a moment, his eyes closed._ "Any_time, professor. If I go up to him in the hallway and push down, I want to be coming in his mouth five minutes later."

"Fuck," Severus swore, over Harry's voiceless whine. "Yes."

The boy laughed. "Oh, you like that, don't you? You'll get off on just thinking about it, so don't complain." Contrary to Severus's orders, he stretched Harry more. "And you'll like it too, won't you, Prout? Probably be trailing me around just hoping I will." With that, he positioned himself and pushed in, and Harry cried out. Quickly, before any real names could emerge, Severus filled his mouth. Harry came immediately, and the whore soon after. Severus came hard and slow, with his brain boiling with confused images of Draco, Lucius, and James.

  


He didn't, he realized, when blood and breath were moving at a more normal rate, expect Harry to run off and seduce Draco -- or even to want to -- and he didn't think he had raised any inappropriate feelings towards the younger Malfoy in himself. After another round, using rather less play-acting, he felt pleasantly sated. They pulled the boy with them into bed, and Severus was amused, rather than jealous, to see Harry asleep with an arm slung over the prostitute, as if he were a teddy bear.

In the morning, after he'd had an excessive amount of food sent up to the room and they had consumed most of it, Severus talked to the boy.

"The surety I gave the man for you is fake -- it means nothing to me. I will return you, if you wish, or leave you any other place in greater London. Choose."

The boy looked overwhelmed, and Harry concerned. "You can't want to go back, Davey. You have bruises."

Davey shrugged, tugging on the sleeve of his collared shirt. He had left off the robes and tie, but was otherwise dressed as Reynard Draper. "It's not like I have any other place to go."

"Is that your decision?"

"I suppose."

He sounded miserable, and Severus was hardly surprised that Harry intercepted him when he went into the bedroom for his coat.

"Greenwich."

"What?"

"Damage his memory and drop him in Greenwich. It's a chance, anyway."

"Why on earth do you think that will _help _him, Potter?"

"It's a nice town. There's a university. If he shows up with no memory, chances are they'll think he's a new student, right? He should be treated well while they try to find his family."

"Do you think they will?" Severus asked nastily.

"Of course not. Well, I hope not. Chances are they won't. And someone might take him in, in the meantime. He's rather sweet, really, isn't he?"

It was a ridiculous plan, but Severus knew he'd go through with it anyway. A statistically improbable number of Harry's harebrained schemes worked. Besides, cooperating pushed back the uncomfortable thought that he would, himself, have given anything to start seventeen anew.


	4. A Working Holiday

Harry started out the day feeling subdued, but Severus brought him to a patisserie on Brompton Road, and after a pot of tea and an assortment of cakes, the day seemed much brighter.

"What's on for today?"

"Dinner, primarily. In the meantime, I thought we might shop down the road. That is what your sort does when they come into money, isn't it? Buy absurd things that they don't need at Harrod's?"

Harry grinned. "Absolutely. It's probably a law, like taxes." He sent Severus a severe look. "No clothes, though."

"Oh, I don't think they'll allow you in without them."

Harry laughed. "I mean I won't buy clothes."

"You plan to steal them? Doesn't that negate the purpose of bleeding off excess money?"

It was the deadpan delivery -- just ever so slightly puzzled -- that made it so hilarious, Harry thought, as he tried not to be too loud. "I don't want more clothes."

"Not even ones that I proclaim to be sexy?"

"'M not a doll." He didn't have to fake sullen for that, but Severus just rolled his eyes.

"Clearly not, as I have _never _played with dolls. It remains that your clothing is all hideous."

"No."

"One suit."

Harry let out an incredulous puff of air. "And what would I do with a _suit?"_

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Go out for dinner?"

  


In the store, Severus was taken for Harry's father, an impression he accepted with equanimity until the first time Harry called him Dad, at which point he turned an interested shade of puce, but responded evenly. Harry found the experiment entertaining enough to repeat a few times, but he gave it up when Severus started to leer in response. That was just disturbing.

Harry tried on two suits, but managed to talk Severus into accepting dress trousers and a blazer instead. He thought he might as well get something he could possibly use a second time. For what was honestly his first ever non-school tie, he picked a rather loud geometric number. After the clothing ordeal was over, they went upstairs and looked at more interesting things, but mostly didn't buy them, because it seemed foolish to buy furniture when they didn't live in a house, or a croquet set when they had no garden. Harry's heart soared while he casually patted a stuffed lion, but he never would have admitted it. They did buy a Mah Jong set, although neither of them had ever heard of the game, because it was too beautiful to resist. Harry was enchanted by the click of the smooth tiles, and Severus by the mysterious foreign symbols.

On the ground floor, they found themselves looking at food, and Harry bought two large boxes of expensive chocolates, and, after Severus bought a bottle of wine that cost nearly a hundred pounds, some marzipan. After that, they continued on their way, not too laden, but stopping in other stores for more wine, cigars, and once, bizarre pens. After dropping off that set of purchases at the hotel, they went into Soho, where Harry bought a pair of boots that rivaled his Quidditch gear for sheer attitude. Severus was not mistaken for Harry's father at _that _store, and people watched with attitudes ranging from horror to amusement as he critiqued Harry's choices of things to try.

A young sales clerk, his pierced lip at odds with his almost maternal concern, caught him in the dressing room. "You all right with him?" he whispered, pointing towards the storefront with the spikes of his blue hair.

"What?" While the word was leaving his mouth, Harry caught the gist of the query. "Um, yeah. Fine."

"If you need help -- a place to stay, or anything -- I know a reasonable shelter. They won't mind you're gay, or anything."

Harry covered his mouth to block a laugh. "Um, no, really. He's not supporting me. I have a place to live." He sobered at the thought that he might not be so lucky. "Not with family, but a good place." He nodded at the door. "And I have fun with him."

With a wink, the clerk relaxed. "Brilliant, then. I think you should try the orange ones with the starburst brass toecaps -- he should nearly explode."

  


The restaurant looked much like Harry's idea of a gentleman's club: dark wood paneling, chairs and benches upholstered in worn red velvet, and stuffed birds and stag's heads everywhere. He found the latter disturbing. When Severus caught the motion of his eyes, he smirked.

"Do the trophies disturb you?

"It_ is _my patronus."

"Ah." Severus, Harry decided, really didn't know the significance of that. He didn't look sufficiently torn. "I'd forgotten. I'd expect a lion, or something with wings."

Deciding that he had been complimented, Harry smiled. "Well, stags are protective, you know."

"Hm. Well, if you don't want venison, I'm afraid you've eliminated half the menu. Though if you're willing to eat roe deer, that opens it up a bit."

Water was poured into crystal glasses and Severus ordered a carafe of wine. The waiter spent some time examining Harry's patently false student identification, but the Confundus charm held, and he eventually nodded. When it came, Severus raised his glass against Harry's.

"To subterfuge."

Harry smiled broadly. "Subterfuge, yes. And all the fun that can come from it."

"Ah -- and to money."

Harry rolled his eyes. Money was far more Snape's thing than his. "If you insist."

They drank.

"So. I have an idea."

"Hm. Is it depraved?"

"Of course." Severus looked sidelong at him. "But _technically _not dishonest."

"Go on, then."

"It is public knowledge -- among our own -- that we have learned to cooperate. I am planning to inform Dumbledore that I am willing to tutor you intensively in combat skills until the start of term."

"And will you?"

A thin, hard smile was his first response. "Yes. And you should not expect allowances for your excellent abilities in other arenas."

Harry considered that. He _did _need to become a better combatant, if he were to even get a chance at Voldemort. "All right. Where does the depravity come in?"

"Combat exercises can be very ... exciting. I expect we will need a break, now and then."

"But if we're behind a locked door...."

"He is likely to assume that any protections placed upon our space are just to keep innocent passers by from harm."

Harry grinned. "Excellent."

  


After dinner, they returned to the hotel, had sleepy, luxurious sex, and fell asleep. When Harry awoke, it was still pitch dark and a sense of alarm had propelled him into peak efficiency. In response to a dim glow of wandlight, he grabbed at the arm beneath it and slammed it back, throwing his weight behind it. He found himself on top of Severus, who sounded exasperated when he sighed. "Impressive, Potter," he said, not at all as if it was.

"Something woke me."

"That would be me."

"Oh." Harry blinked. Now that there apparently wasn't a crisis, sleepiness was catching up with him. "Just want a fuck, then?"

"No." Even flat on his back, in near darkness Severus could project contempt. "Now that you have slept off the meal and the wine, I _want _a gargoyle egg."

"Meaning I fetch it," Harry grumbled, belatedly climbing off of him. "Is there some reason not to turn on the light?"

"Yes." Severus sat up. He handed Harry a small vial carved of smooth stone. "Drink this."

It was only as the potion, greasy and pine-flavored, was sliding down his throat, that Harry considered the trust he had developed in Severus. He hadn't even asked.

Before he could take that line of inquiry further, the world came into view. He could see the room: the bags that Severus had insisted that they pack before dinner, his new clothes strewn on the floor, the crystal-handled stamp that Severus had used as a butt-plug resting on the bedside table, the empty glasses on the bar, and the sedate seascape above the bureau. Through the window, he could see the distant tops of buildings, and an owl soaring past.

"Brilliant," he breathed.

"It works best after several hours in darkness or near-darkness," Severus explained. "I will blindfold you for the walk to the roof."

Being led, sightless, up the emergency stairs was frightening, but it was worth it for the sight of the city, clear as day, but tinted blue with shadow and bedecked with colored lights, which greeted him from the roof. Harry straddled his broom and accepted the disturbing feeling of the Obscuration charm, and Severus moved ahead of him, in quick, short Apparations, rooftop to rooftop until he could point out the nest.

"If they don't spot you," Severus said, "come back here. If they do, you'll want to go someplace they can't fly into. That bit on the top of St. Paul's has narrow enough spaces between the pillars; fly there and I'll Apparate to meet you."

They waited, the watch made bearable by warming charms, until first one, then the other, of the two gargoyles lifted off from the peaked stone.

"They'll be back soon," Severus said. "Move."

With a nod, Harry kicked off into the night.

He was at the nest in seconds. He put the egg, a smooth stone ovoid, as heavy as the granite that it resembled, in his pocket, and began to fill a bag with gravel. Every few seconds, he scanned the sky for the sight of the creatures returning. His bag was nearly full when he saw it -- a large shape become quickly larger. By the time he had pulled the bag closed, he could see the lines of outstretched arms. He left the roof in a dive.

The spire of St. Paul's might be safe itself, but it was a long flight with no cover, and towards the returning gargoyle. He cut down, instead, staying close to the buildings. He could dive fast, but when the gargoyle screamed, with a sound like screeching brakes, and began to descend, he knew he hadn't a chance in straight race. Instead, he cut through a narrow arch, a space too narrow for the great creature's wings, and it had to break off the dive and recover altitude in a long sweeping curve. Harry shot up to the pillars supporting the dome and went through the first arch. He had hoped to go all the way around, but some of the supports turned out to be solid, trapping him in a short arc of the total circumference. He hovered in the middle archway, ready to dart in either direction, while the gargoyle swooped back and forth, letting out blood-curdling screeches, before finally landing outside. Clinging to the stone edge with its hind feet, it reached in a long arm. It could not quite grab Harry, but with its wings folded, it would clearly fit through the gap.

Harry waited, drifting just slightly away from the clutching talons. With a grating growl, the gargoyle folded its wings and hoisted itself up in a heavy swinging motion that was much slower and less graceful than its flight. As soon as it was under the roof, it lunged, but Harry was already gone, shooting out the other side of the archway and up the dome.

"Here!" He shot behind the close pillars and handed the egg to Severus, who put it in an already open casket. The gargoyle had made it back out from the roof below and was rising, fortunately much more laboriously than it descended, with powerful flaps of its huge wings. Severus closed the casket, latched it, and touched it with his wand. Harry hoped that he didn't need to perform any elaborate spells.

With a crash, the gargoyle landed on the walkway, and lumbered up to reach for them. This time, Harry could clearly see the long talons of each finger, could hear them clack as they came together.

"Harry! Now!"

Severus seized him at the shoulder, and it was the familiar squeeze of Apparation, not stone talons, that took his breath. A moment later, he was lying on the hotel bed, laughing helplessly.

  


_**********_

  


Back at Hogwarts, Severus followed through on his promise to make Harry study. Harry, for once, was a willing pupil; they worked on hexes to incapacitate, and ones to destroy, and ways to get past shields, and ways to make your own shields more effective. Severus had never seen him so focused on learning, and found his intensity in lessons almost alarming. After they completed a session, Severus would usually demand sexual favors, nominally in payment for the lesson, or in exchange for releasing Harry from a hex, but more importantly to ground both of them. He found himself wishing that he could slow down the turn of the year; Christmas passed, and June seemed far too soon to give up this sport. He refused to think of it in any other terms.

As the end of the holiday approached, he found himself searching for a fitting final lesson. It was while brewing the Shadowcloak philtre that the answer finally came to him. When the potion was filtered and decanted to age, he went searching for Harry. He found him in the library, working on a research essay with uninspired diligence.

"Put that away. We're going to practice."

"Here?" Harry winced, obviously realizing the stupidity of the thought. Severus folded his arms over his chest and fixed him with a scornful stare.

"If you think I have so little regard for the danger posed by Madam Pince as to _duel _in the library, you are an idiot. Of course not here!"

"But we usually meet later --" Harry was already stuffing books into his bag.

"True, but it is warm outside now, and that won't last long."

"We're going outside?"

Severus strode out into the corridor, Harry at his heels. "I can't very well have you practice on a broom indoors, can I?"

"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed.

  


Snape wasn't a balanced flyer himself, but he was not surprised that Harry, whose talent had been apparent his first time on a broom, had no trouble throwing hexes from one. He was also not surprised that Harry's defense against hexes from below was poor; most people found that trickier to adapt to. Harry insisted on trying moves again and again, and Severus finally called him down when he began to fear the boy would fall from sheer exhaustion. When Harry landed, he was sweating, despite the growing winter chill, and he tumbled gratefully and immediately off his broom. Severus regarded him critically.

"You should return to the school and warm up quickly, Mr. Potter."

"Have any suggestions?" Harry asked cheekily.

"A bath is standard, I believe."

Harry frowned. "All right." A trace of the mischief returned as they began the walk back to the castle. "I wonder if I can guess the password on the Prefects' Bathroom."

"You could get into quite a bit of trouble, that way."

Harry shrugged. "Who'd catch me? None of the prefects return until tomorrow."

Under the cover of his cloak, Severus cast a quick Privacy charm.

"There is a bath in the dungeons," he said quietly.

"Oh?

"Turn right at the bottom of the main stairs, and look for a painting of a lightning storm splitting a tree. The password is 'chimera.'"

Just as he finished speaking, the sky began to spit hard drops of sleet. They increased their pace. A small brown owl dropped out of the biting sky and swooped in front of him to perch on the front of Harry's Firebolt. It had a roll of parchment tied to one foot, and once he had taken that, it sidestepped down the broom handle until it was right by Harry's hand, partially sheltered by his body.

"Fan mail?" Severus asked bitingly.

Harry stuffed the scroll into his bag without looking at it. "Let's get inside!"

  


_**********_

  


Inside the doors, by silent agreement, they parted. Snape headed down the corridor with a purposeful stride, and Harry, after a quick check for witnesses showed no one, went down the main staircase to the dungeons.

He found the painting easily enough. The bath was not as decadent as the Prefects' bath, but it was roomy enough for three or four adults, and had a good dozen taps. Harry started fresh hot water pouring into it, and climbed in as soon as he had his clothes off. His robes were soaked through and his skin frozen, and the water felt scalding on his legs and feet, even though he had tested it on his wrist. He was just starting to feel better, and had begun to add some spicy-scented bubbles, when the door opened. Severus entered, leered at him, and hit him with a Stinging hex.

"Aaa!" Harry stumbled from the water, slipping on the floor as he lunged for his robes and his wand to counteract the spell. "What the hell was _that _for, you _bastard?"_

"For not having your wand to hand, Potter. The one you use to _defend _yourself, that is."

"But --" Harry bit off his protest. Obviously, if an enemy had entered, he would have been in serious trouble. "Point taken," he admitted. He was starting to shake from renewed chill. Severus looked up from firing off a spell at the second sink and shooed him back at the bath.

"Get back in the water before you freeze, Potter. I have no interest in carrying you up to Pomfrey to be treated for hypothermia."

"Come into the water and rub my arms, then."

"Arms?"

"Whatever."

Severus in the bath was strange, but good. Harry wasn't sure of penetration under water, and he certainly didn't want his mouth on anything covered in a film of scented soap, but everything was slippery, and when Severus pulled him to sit between his legs and began leisurely stroking his cock, it was dreamily good.

When his arousal heightened, countering the stupor of warm water, he turned and straddled his lover's legs and wrapped his hands around both their erections and took over the pulling. Severus concentrated on the kiss. His orgasm was as slow and floaty as all the rest of it, and he collapsed, boneless, against Severus, who leaned back, sliding more of them under the water.

"You know," Severus whispered, "that may be the mildest sex we've ever had."

"Yeah." Harry chuckled. "Very clean."

With a snort, Severus bumped him upward at the hips, causing waves that came nearly to Harry's mouth. "Prat. Come to my room and we'll get dirty. Very dirty."

  


They had just entered the bedroom, and Harry was putting down his school bag, when Severus looked down at the parchment poking out of it.

"What was that letter?"

"Oh! I never looked." Settling himself on the edge of the bed, Harry pulled the letter out. Severus crawled up behind him to read over his shoulder.
    
    
    Dear Harry,
    
    Thank you for writing. I am very grateful, both for your  
    letter and your forgiveness.
    
    Ron is speaking to me now, and I expect he will to you,  
    when he returns, if you don't make it difficult. I think  
    he was most angry at you for being right. It is  
    difficult to surrender the cherished illusion that you  
    can trust your family -- note how I was taken in by Percy.  
    I may not be Moody, but my profession requires substantial  
    paranoia, yet still, I was taken in. I wanted to  
    believe that I could trust my brother, and I have paid for  
    that -- not enough, I think, but I have realized that  
    killing myself would really just add to the problem. I  
    made everyone miserable a second time, rather than  
    actually trying to fix anything. It's terribly easy to say  
    that there's nothing to be done and just give up. I can't  
    raise the dead, after all. But it remains that there are  
    other things to be done.
    
    At any rate, I hope all is well with you. Please feel  
    free to call on me at any time.
    
    Your obedient servant, (Really! And don't make faces.)
    
    Bill Weasley

 

"How charming," Severus said dryly, not at all as if he were charmed.

"Well, _I'm _glad he wrote," Harry retorted. He felt a bit guilty when he realized that it had been days since he had last wondered how Bill was doing. Thoughtfully, he rolled up the letter and squeezed it into his bag. "So that's one problem settled. What are _we _going to do?"

"About what?"

Harry waved a hand, indicating the familiar mess of the bed and the surfaces within reach of it. "Term."

"Tired of detentions, are you?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione scolds me. And Professor McGonagall may start to wonder if I could actually be that bad, even by your standards."

"Perhaps." Severus reached into the drawer of the bedside table. Absently, he lit two cigarettes and offered Harry one. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Well, the training. We could extend the arrangement, officially."

"And then people -- at least the headmaster and Professor McGonagall and your friends -- would know that you were meeting with me ... twice a week, perhaps?"

"That would work." Harry thought that he might need a few detentions to supplement that schedule, but it was a good base. He lay back on the bed and wondered if it was fireproofed. Curiously, he flicked ash onto the coverlet. It burned out without singeing.

"If it became more widely known, certain people might wonder at my inability to take you from the school."

"Well, if Dumbledore knows I'm with you, you'd have a hard time with it, right?"

"Yes. Their reaction is still a risk, but a tolerable one." Severus hesitated. "What I am actually doing is far more of a risk."

"May I stay with you, tonight?"

Severus raised his head, all unease vanishing behind a practiced leer. "As long as you don't plan to sleep."

  


The next evening, Harry went to the top of the North Tower and watched nervously for the return of the other students. Despite his worry, he was stifling occasional yawns. When the Hogwarts Express finally appeared, he went back down inside to warm up by the fire. It wouldn't do to look like he had been waiting.

He was rereading the same Transfiguration page for the third time when the portrait hole opened and students began to climb in, one after another. Hermione let out a little squeal as she ran over to him, and Harry stood up into an unexpected hug.

"We missed you so much, Harry! Everyone sends their love, and Bill is home now. I hope you weren't too horribly bored."

At the "we," Harry looked uncertainly past her, but Ron was smiling, albeit nervously, at Hermione's words.

"Yeah -- not like you to be studying alone, mate."

Harry knew there was a stupidly wide smile spreading across his face, but he couldn't seem to help it. "You know what they say -- boredom is a dangerous thing."


End file.
